“Switzerland!” he said slowly.  “Why, Bab, they’re not going to do that, are they?  I—­I don’t want you so far away.”

Dear Dairy, I am unsuspisious by nature, beleiving all mankind to be my friends until proven otherwise.  But there was a gloating look in Carter Brooks’ eyes as they turned on me.

“Carter!” I said, “you know where he is and you will not tell me.  You wish to ruin him.”

I was about to put my hand on his arm, but he drew away.

“Look here,” he said.  “I’ll tell you somthing, but please keep back.  Because you look like smallpox to me.  I was at the mill this morning.  I do not know anything about your Actor-friend.  He’s probably only been run over or somthing.  But I saw Beresford going in, and I—­well, I sugested that he’d better walk in on your father or he wouldn’t get in.  It worked, Bab.  How it did work!  He went in and said he had come to ask your father for somthing, and your father blew up by saying that he knew about it, but that the world only owed a living to the man who would hustle for it, and that he would not be forced to take any one he did not want.

“And in to minutes Beresford hit him, and got a responce.  It was a Million dollars worth.”

So he babbled on.  But what were his words to me?

Dear Dairy, I gave no thought to the smallpox he had mentioned, although fatle to the complexion.  Or to the fight at the mill.  I heard only Adrian’s possable tradgic fate.  Sudenly I colapsed, and asked for a drink of water, feeling horible, very wobbley and unable to keep my knees from bending.

And the next thing I remember is father taking me home, and Adrian’s fate still a deep mystery, and remaining such, while I had a warm sponge to bring out the rest of the rash, folowed by a sleep—­it being meazles and not smallpox.

Oh, dear Dairy, what a story I learned when haveing wakened and feeling better, my father came tonight and talked to me from the doorway, not being allowed in.

Adrian had gone to the mill, and father, haveing thrown Beresford out and asserted his principals, had not thrown him out, but had given him A job in the mill.  And the Policeman had given him no chance to escape, which he atempted.  He was dragged to the shell plant and there locked in, because of spies.  The plant is under Milatary Guard.

And there he had been compeled to drag A wheelbarrow back and forth, containing charcoal for A small FURNASE, for hours!

Even when Carter found him he could not be releaced, as father was in hiding from Reporters, and would not go to the telephone or see callers.

He labored until ten P. M., while the theater remained dark, and people got their money back.